


The Coronation

by AlexisVictorious



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Broken Promises, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisVictorious/pseuds/AlexisVictorious
Summary: Stories will tell of a time where Alistair, Ferelden’s commoner king was so humbled by the crown that some say he even wept. But histories written on the lips of castle servants and well guarded social circles will tell another tale.





	The Coronation

She had insisted on standing in the back of the main hall, despite being given the king’s honor at his side so he was told. Alistair was too overwhelmed by being dressed by castle staff to do much in protest, adjusting the measurements once intended for the previous king to suit his broader form. He had asked for someone to send for her in all of the precipitous haze, but she had already slipped into the great hall by then, too crowded with people to ind her in all of the excitement.

She must have known then that their relationship would never be the same. That they were both clinging desperately to the threads of fate that were so determined to have them take their separate paths. 

He had caught her gaze in the crowd that day and it was at that moment that he realized it too, though he couldn’t yet put it into words. The revered mother led Alistair through the Chant of Light, and he repeated the words without thought. He had repeated them so many times before during his training as a templar that he didn’t need her prompts. His gaze was unwavering and focused. He watched as her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh as the coronation began, and she began pushing her way past the attendees towards the door at the back of the hall.

He would never go to battle alongside the woman he trusted most. He would never be able to comfort her in the moments where she needed it most. He wouldn’t be there to hold her through the nightmares. That there wouldn’t be any more long nights in tents, filled with laughter and clumsy hands. That he would never wake up in the morning with her legs tangled in his, no more calm breaths against his chest, each a declaration of  _ home _ . 

In that moment he felt the full weight of the crown. The choice that had been made for him in a matter of moments and the country that came along with it sat heavily on his shoulders. An ache of loneliness flooded through his chest. The revered mother placed the Ferelden crown on his head, pressing down on the ends of his hair that always stuck upwards. He resisted the urge to call out to her, to have her stand by him.

What were all of his promises to her worth, if he couldn’t keep them now? What were the two of them now? A stash of letters to be hidden in the back of a drawer, and secretive sporadic nights that are guaranteed to end too quickly? Who would accompany her to Weisshaupt? Who will be there for her when it’s her time to go the the Deep Roads and-? 

_ Maker _ , he was an  _ idiot _ . He looked to her again, trying to keep his facial expression resolute but his apology in his eyes was frantic as he held his looked to the Grey Warden at the back of the room. She held his gaze, her brow furrowed. Tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a bittersweet softness. He had seen that look in her eye before, just before she ran ahead of him to slay the archdemon, placing what faith she had in the ritual the night before. A  _ sacrifice _ .

What had he done? What had they done? How did he agree to this? What was the fate of Ferelden, when just days ago they were going to hang them both for treason? What good was a birthright to a throne - a  _ chair  _ \- that wanted nothing to do with him up until it was most convenient for the right players at hand?

But what was the look she had given him?

Regret? 

Acceptance?

Mourning?

She mouthed something, then pushed the large doors open and slipped out before he could ask.

What was it that she had said? 

“I love you,” or “I  _ loved  _ you?”

Alistair kept his eyes fixed at the main doors of the hall, clenching his jaw as the chantry sister finished reciting the Canticle of Trials, making his coronation official. Maker’s blessing  _ indeed _ . A hot tear fell from his cheek. In the brief silence before he repeated the final verse, the thud of the door echoed throughout the room. 

_ “Maker crown you with a crown of of His Light, _

_ Let you see over the Maker’s children, _

_ And guide them in His Light, ever present, _

_ ‘Til we join the World-Maker in the heavens, _

_ ‘Til then, we endure.” _

With that, Ferelden had their new king, tears falling from his eyes onto the fur of the ceremonial cloak, eyes still fixed on the door at the end of the hall. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like angst and I cannot lie  
Though other authors may deny  
When a OTP walks into the place  
With a breakup in your face you get...  
Emotional.
> 
> Starting this on off as a one-shot.


End file.
